


A drop to drink

by notallbees



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Dark Magic, Dubious Consent, Eggpreg, Human/Monster Romance, M/M, Mating, Mpreg, Other, Oviposition, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:28:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22188628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: "Did you see that?" Ferdinand hissed, grabbing at the sailor's arm."Eh?""It looked like—I thought it was a man!" Ferdinand exclaimed.The sailor laughed. "A man is it? That there's an eel, my lad. A prodigious great monster of an eel I'll grant you, but an eel just the same."On a political voyage to Brigid, a chance encounter with a mysterious sea creature changes the course of Ferdinand's life forever.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 74
Kudos: 302





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Froggie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Froggie/gifts).



> So frog drew all [this](https://twitter.com/oversized_frog/status/1214312813918916614) [amazing](https://twitter.com/oversized_frog/status/1214326180335239170) [art](https://twitter.com/oversized_frog/status/1214333942989574144) of mer!herbert (merbert, if you will) and my dick was inspired. THE ART IS NSFW.
> 
>   
> PLEASE HEED THE TAGS ON THIS FIC!!

It was late, and Ferdinand was about to go down to his cabin when he spotted something unusual in the water. He wasn't one of the crew, only a passenger on his way to renew political talks with Brigid, but he'd always had good eyes, and was often the first to spot an unfamiliar sail. 

Grabbing a glass, Ferdinand darted over to the windward rail and looked out at the dark shape in the water. It was like a porpoise, or a dolphin, but with a long, thin tail like a snake. As he watched, it drew closer to the ship, and he saw the glint of smooth, black skin like the back of a whale, although the creature was much too small to be one. 

"What is it, lad?" one of the older mariners asked, drawing alongside him. 

Ferdinand frowned. He disliked the casual manner in which the sailors spoke to him, but he'd found it easier to tolerate than to argue, and had grown accustomed to being treated alternately as a fool or a child. He handed the man his glass and pointed out what he'd seen. The creature was almost close enough for him to see clearly now in any case. "Some kind of serpent?" he said in a wondering tone. 

"Aye, and a right queer one at that," the man agreed. 

"Do you suppose it to be a threat?"

The man made a thoughtful sound. "T'ain't much to look at, is it? Poor devil, all thin and stretched like an eel."

Ferdinand's eyes widened. "Yes, that's just the thing. I was trying to think what it reminded me of. Like a giant—"

He fell suddenly silent as the creature broke the surface of a wave, its upper body visible only for a moment before it dove once more. Ferdinand had a momentary flash of dark eyes and pale flesh, before the creature was swallowed by the water once more.

"Did you see that?" Ferdinand hissed, grabbing at the other man's arm.

"Eh?"

"It looked like—I thought it was a man!" Ferdinand exclaimed.

The sailor laughed. "A man is it? That there's an eel, my lad. A prodigious great monster of an eel I'll grant you, but an eel just the same."

"But I—" Ferdinand began, watching the dark shape as it retreated once more, apparently having lost interest in the ship. "I could have sworn—he had a _face_."

"Is that so," the sailor replied, clearly unconvinced. "Beautiful, was he?"

"Why—no," Ferdinand said, frowning. "In fact he was rather ugly."

The sailor barked with laughter. "What luck you have, lad!" he cried, slapping Ferdinand on the shoulder. "Whoever heard of an ugly siren? Oh my days, ugly indeed!" He doubled over, still cackling. It took him a minute to compose himself, which he did at last, wiping his eyes. "Still, perhaps it's lucky after all. Nobody ever came to a good end after meeting a beautiful siren."

Ferdinand huffed. Whatever he'd seen had been no siren, and no eel for that matter. But as to what it was, he couldn't begin to guess. 

—

The storm struck them in the early hours of the morning, while most of the crew was snatching a few precious hours of sleep. Ferdinand was tipped from his hammock unceremoniously, bruising himself rather badly as he crashed against the sloping board below. Recovering himself, he raced to don his boots and cloak and made his way on deck. The bedraggled crew swarmed the rigging, trying valiantly to furl the topsheet before the whole mast could be carried away. 

Ferdinand fought against the pitching roll of the ship, and the fury of the waves crashing over the deck, to hurry to the assistance of a man laying out lifelines along the length of the deck. 

"What happened?" he cried. When he'd gone to sleep only a few hours earlier, the seas had been calm, the skies clear.

"Storm came out of nowhere!" the man screamed into the wind. "Ask me, it's dark magic!"

Fear struck Ferdinand cold. He'd heard tell of dark creatures, monsters who jealously guarded their territory with spells and cursed, but had never encountered such a thing in his travels, and he lacked the superstitious nature so common to the crew. Rain battered them as they worked to lay the heavy rope along the deck, while the ceaseless, offbeat rhythm of the waves constantly threatened to knock them off their feet. 

All of a sudden there was a deafening crack, and the whole ship bucked like an angry horse, throwing every standing sailor to the deck. There followed a great rending and groaning, as though the ship herself were screaming in pain, and then her sonorous voice was joined by the cries and screams of the crew. 

Ferdinand struggled to his feet, the wind whipping his face with stray locks of his own sodden hair, and looked around wildly. The ship's roll had altered, changing to a miserable shuddering and shaking, and Ferdinand felt fear close his throat, and seize an icy hand around his heart, as he realised what had happened. 

"She's aground!" someone shouted over the roar of the storm. 

"Aye, she's wounded!" another voice called. 

A flurry of activity followed, although they were hampered by the waves beating against the ship's breached hull, grinding her back against the rocks each time, and soaking all her crew afresh. Ferdinand's long braid felt like a mooring cable against his neck, and as they worked desperately to save the ship his limbs grew heavier and heavier. 

By dawn they had abandoned their efforts to bring her off the rocks, and had set about retrieving what they could from the ship's stores. The ship had fetched up against a desolate spit of land, too small to hold fresh water or plant life, and surrounded on one side by jagged rocks, on which the ship had wrecked. Ferdinand was so weary he could scarcely move, but he continued to shift his heavy limbs with slow, mechanical movements as they rescued the least waterlogged supplies and readied the surviving lifeboats. Several of the crew had drowned or been crushed belowdecks, and it was a miserable and meagre crowd of them that finally set off. 

"By Sothis," the sailing master spat, sitting at the prow of the little boat with a murderous look on his sunburned face, while his exhausted crewmates rowed. "Four days' or more sailing from Brigid. We'll be lucky if we make it there in a fortnight."

"A body might take his turn," the cook growled in Ferdinand's ear. "Which it is his fault we was sundered."

"Aye," another one said, taking up the complaint a little louder. "Shouldn't the master know when his ship goes off course?"

"Storm didn't blow us _that_ far off," the master snapped at them. "That cursed little island isn't even on our charts. Ask me, there was nothing natural about that storm, or that island."

Ferdinand shivered. He didn't look up, but the change in atmosphere was palpable all the same.

"What're you sayin', Dutton?" one man asked. "You think someone offended the goddess, bless her tits?"

The mood in the boat lifted for a moment with the men's tired laughter. 

Dutton, the master, shook his head. "Offended some dark creature, more like. There's nasty things in these waters. Twisted things."

Ferdinand's mouth was dry. Dryer than it had been already after the night's labours and the rationed water. He couldn't help thinking of the thing he'd seen the night before. That had surely been a dark creature, if anything could be called such. He was aware of the old sailor, the one who'd called the creature an eel, rowing behind him. He prayed silently that the man wouldn't speak up.

"Now you mention it," said a voice behind him, slow and ponderous, freezing Ferdinand's blood. "Ol' Copper Nob here, he seen something."

"Ah—n-no," Ferdinand began, as everyone's weary gaze turned to him with renewed vigour. "Nothing of the sort—a mere fancy—" 

"Saw something, did you, lad?" Dutton asked him in a considering tone. 

Gripping the oar more tightly, Ferdinand drew himself up, squaring his aching shoulders. "I may be young, but I must remind you that I am still Ferdinand von Aegir, heir to—"

"Heir to nothing, Lordling," Dutton interrupted him, "unless we make landfall soon, before our water runs out."

Ferdinand clamped his mouth shut. 

"What did you see?" the cook asked, glaring at Ferdinand. He'd ceased rowing, and his meaty fists lay upon his oar, tightly curled in anticipation. 

"Said it was a siren of some ilk," the old sailor said. He chuckled low. "An ugly one."

Laughter followed his words

"Please," Ferdinand whispered. "It was nothing. A figment."

"Could a siren call up a storm like that?" one man asked.

Another spat. "Aye. They're full of black magic, them."

"Trust a lordling to bring down a demon on us," a low voice muttered. 

Ferdinand turned sharply, looking over his shoulder at the weary faces behind him. They were livened now by the sport, their familial tolerance of him now turned to vicious glee.

"How much water did you say we had, Davies?" someone asked in a low voice.

The cook snorted, then spat over the side of the boat. "Ten days perhaps."

A sombre silence covered them. 

"A fortnight to Brigid," someone ventured, echoing the sailing master's words.

"We'n might make it," another man offered, very quietly. "With one less mouth to wet."

Ferdinand's skin prickled. He was frozen, his fingers clamped around the oar. He was aware of every set of eyes in the boat trained upon him. Opening his mouth, Ferdinand found that he couldn't sleep, his throat stoppered. All he could do was stare up at Dutton's grim expression.

"We're no murderers," Dutton said quietly, and the muttering from the crew ceased. "Can you swim, Lordling?"

Tears pricked Ferdinand's eyes, burning in his skull. "Now—now just wait," he said, his voice thin and reedy. It suddenly felt as if there were not enough air, and he fought to catch a breath. "I am—F-Ferdinand von Aegir! I am on special dispensation by the Prime Minister, and it is imperative I get to Brigid!" An uncomfortable silence followed his words. Ferdinand could sense that he hadn't swayed them. "Y-your captain was paid handsomely to assure my safe passage to—"

"Our captain," Dutton spat, "had his head stoved in by a falling beam." He cast a baleful eye over Ferdinand, taking in his wet, bedraggled clothing. "Even if you had a coin about you, which any man here can see you don't, not even a lord can bribe a dead man."

"But," Ferdinand said desperately, tears beginning to spill down his cheeks. "When we reach Brigid—"

" _If_ we reach it," one man interrupted, and the others jeered.

Ferdinand cast his gaze around, hoping for a sympathetic face. He found none. "This is madness," he hissed, looking back to the sailing master in desperation. "You cannot really mean to—" He stopped. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. 

Dutton was stony-faced. "Like I said, Lordling. We're no murderers. You'll do us the kindness of steppin' over the side, nice and easy."

"I shall do no such thing," Ferdinand hissed. Even had he wished to, he couldn't have moved. His legs had turned to stone. 

Dutton's face hardened. "I'm doing you the courtesy of askin' nicely, Ferdinand von Aegir. But this ain't a negotiation."

Ferdinand gritted his teeth. He didn't look round at the crews' murderous faces. He could sense them well enough. He supposed he should be grateful they'd done it to his face, rather than wait until he was sleeping to heave him over the side. It was only sporting of him to do the noble thing and step aside. It was that, or fight the whole job lot of them. 

"Very well," he said, his voice coming with difficulty. "I—"

Before he could finish, he caught a flash of movement in the waves below. His eyes widened as he leaned toward the side of the boat to see. A long, thin black tail rippled through the waves, just below the surface, passing under the lifeboat before disappearing. 

"We're none of us getting any younger here," Dutton said calmly. 

"Alright, alright," Ferdinand said, allowing his anger to blaze through. He took a deep breath after, steadying himself. If he were to die, he would do it nobly. Shaking on his weary legs, he stood. "Good day, gentlemen. I pray we all meet in Brigid, where I will run each of you through with my sword."

Perhaps not noble, but memorable. To the sound of their jeering, he stepped over the edge of the boat and plunged into the frigid water.


	2. Chapter 2

For a day, Ferdinand drifted. After watching the boat draw out of sight, he'd tried to swim back toward the spit of land, but hadn't made it far before his arms and legs gave out, and it took all his remaining strength to merely stay afloat. He'd been blessed at last by a stray piece of wood that had doubtless broken apart from the ship, which he dragged himself onto. The spit was nowhere in sight however, and even if he'd had the energy, he had no concept of which direction he ought to paddle. Instead, he lay there, slowly baking in the weak sun, until night came, when he curled into a ball and shivered violently.

Just as he was beginning to lose consciousness at one point, he heard a strange splashing, quite unlike the sound of the waves, but when he opened his eyes there was nothing in sight. Groaning, he wrapped his arms more tightly around himself and closed his eyes once more. Sleep was elusive, but he began to drift once more. Not quite sleeping, not quite waking. 

A stronger wave tipped the board he lay upon, and Ferdinand blinked back awake. He opened his eyes to find someone looking back at him. A man leaned over him, and dark, sunken eyes stared down at him from a pallid face. No, not a man; the features were not quite right, the bared teeth far too sharp. If Ferdinand's throat hadn't been so scorched, he would have screamed. As it was he could only make a terrified rasping sound, trying to get his hands under him before realising that there was nowhere to go. And then a cold, wet arm slid around his throat, and the face leaned down and sealed its clammy mouth to his, and then there was only darkness.

—

Ferdinand came to slowly. His first thought was of how wretched he felt, while the second, seeming to come minutes later, was of what a relief it was to feel wretched, for it meant that he was not yet dead. 

He opened his eyes, but could see no better than before. For a moment he began to fear that he'd gone blind, and he sat up with a cry, only for his forehead to collide with a very hard ceiling above. He fell back, cursing and clutching his head where he'd struck it. Dizziness claimed him for several moments, the world turning sickeningly around him before returning to normality. Warmth pulsed between his fingertips, and began to run down the side of his face. Still clutching his aching skull with one hand, Ferdinand lifted the other cautiously. A rock ceiling was less than an arm's length above him. Fear began to beat a drum against his chest. He reached shaking hands out to the sides, and cautiously moved his feet. 

After several moments of increasingly panicked searching, Ferdinand felt a small passage to his side, and relief flooded him at the realisation that he wasn't trapped entirely. He rolled over onto his belly, grimacing at the various aches and scrapes—there seemed to be no part of him that hadn't sustained some sort of injury—and began to crawl along the passage, feeling his way blindly. The rock beneath him was smooth, but still uncomfortable to crawl over, though Ferdinand scarcely noticed. He was too concerned with finding his way out, with the blood running down into his eyes.

He slipped suddenly, his arms going out from under him as they slipped off a ledge and crashed down into a shallow pool of water, soaking him up to his shoulders. He managed to keep his head out of the water, and clumsily tried to push himself back up, but froze when he noticed a dull, pale glow beneath the water. Ferdinand had only a moment to celebrate the fact that he was not blind after all, before the glow drew nearer, rising up to the surface of the dark pool of water. 

A man's face broke the surface, followed by pale, slender shoulders, and a thin, near-emaciated torso. Ferdinand recognised him with a shock as the man—the creature—that had surprised him when he was still adrift. He tried to move back, away, but he had precious little room to manoeuvre in the tiny cave. 

The creature drew closer to him, sliding through the water with ease. The dull glow he'd seen came, remarkably, from the creature's eyes. Each time it blinked, the light all but extinguished for a hair of a second. As Ferdinand watched, half terrified, half fascinated, the creature reached out one webbed, clawed hand and caught hold of his jaw between its cold fingers. Ferdinand's breathing was loud in the little cave, and as it leaned in, his whimper echoed around the walls. It opened its mouth and a long, slender tongue protruded; instead of kissing him, this time it ran its tongue up the side of his face, until it found the cut on his forehead that was still bleeding freely. 

Ferdinand's breathing stuttered, a soft whimper escaping him. The creature was close enough that its cool breath stirred the fine hairs on his neck. Ferdinand longed for a weapon, but he had nothing besides his torn clothing. Even if he'd had a knife about his person, he wasn't sure he'd have had the strength to plunge it into the beast; he felt frozen, like a startled rabbit, as the creature lapped up his warm blood. A sick, miserable certainty settled in his stomach; he'd given it a taste of him now. It would only be a matter of time before it decided to feast on him. He could only hope it would kill him first. 

As it withdrew, Ferdinand forced himself to meet the baleful glow of the creature's eyes. It regarded him with apparent curiosity, if it was even possible to ascribe human emotion to such a horror. 

"What do you want from me?" Ferdinand hissed, finding his voice at last. "Did you bring me here just to eat me, Goddess damn you?"

The creature continued to blink back at him, showing no sign that it understood him. 

"If you're going to kill me, then do it!" Ferdinand cried. "Don't keep me here in this foetid dungeon!"

For answer, the creature only gave a wet snort. It drew away, and made a gesture with its hands. Ferdinand thought at first that the creature were trying to communicate with him, until the air around its fingers began to glow, and tiny beads of light began to wink into existence like a candle flame going out, but in reverse. Ferdinand's eyes widened as light filled the cave, and he looked around him in wonder. The little beads of light glowed like fireflies, and drifted gently through the damp air like dust motes. Despite the enchanting sight they made, a fresh layer of unease settled in his belly; so the creature could perform magic after all. 

His attention was caught by the slowly drifting motes of light. The cave was small, yet he saw now that there was another opening to his side, into which the lights were moving. The opening was several feet across, big enough for a man to clamber through, while deep drag marks led up the sandy slope. He glanced at the creature, and down at the base of the shallow pool, where he could see an inky black tunnel leading down. There was no way to tell whether one would lead to freedom, but up seemed more promising than down. The creature may have been nimble in water, but if it was the same beast that Ferdinand had seen from the ship, its long tail would no doubt hinder its movements on land. 

After another moment's indecision, Ferdinand made a lunge for the open passageway. It wasn't quite large enough for him to move at a crouch, so he scrambled up on his hands and knees, sand sticking to his wet skin and clothes as he climbed hurriedly. Each moment he expected to feel the creature's cold, slimy fingers close around his ankle, or the sick, twisting sensation of dark magic being worked upon him, but nothing came. 

He climbed and climbed, his heart pounding and his breathing loud in his ears, until finally the passage opened out into another, wider space. This time, there was room for him to stand, which he did with caution, even though his legs could scarcely hold his weight. He cast about frantically for some means of escape, but with what meagre light was offered by the tiny glowing beads, he could see no exit. 

Before he could decide what to do next, there was a low hissing sound behind him. Ferdinand turned on the spot, whirling around so fast that the damp knot of his bedraggled braid whipped around and struck him in the cheek. Sure enough, the creature had pursued him along the passage. It came into view after a few moments, dragging itself effortlessly up the sandy path. In his desperation Ferdinand looked around for something he could use to defend himself. He longed for the weight of a blade at his hip, but his sword had been lost along with his other belongings. The creature approached him slowly, lower body undulating as it dragged itself along by its webbed hands. 

Ferdinand breathed in sharply. He tried to take a step back but tripped, crying out in surprise when he landed painfully on his rump. The creature came toward him. It was clearly in no hurry, approaching him without haste, its dark, narrow eyes focused on his face. 

"Don't," Ferdinand whispered, shifting backward on his hands. "Please—"

The creature advanced. As more light crept into the chamber, he saw that the creature's hands were black, while its fingers ended in sharp claws. The face was that of a gaunt man, perhaps a little older than Ferdinand himself, with dark hair that hung, dripping, over his severe brow. 

"I—I'm n-not what you want," Ferdinand stammered, backing up further, until he felt solid rock against his shoulders. 

The creature frowned, then parted its mouth, revealing its mouthful of pointed teeth. "But you are," it hissed, startling Ferdinand so that all he could do was stare. 

"You—you can speak? You understand me?" he stammered.

"Sssilence," the creature hissed, raising a hand. It slashed at him with one of those wicked claws, and Ferdinand yelped like a kicked dog when he felt it slice through the skin of his thigh, tearing through his ragged clothing like parchment. 

Ferdinand clapped a hand over the wound, staring at the creature with wide, fearful eyes. "Do you mean to kill me?"

The creature snorted again, but gave no answer.

Ferdinand gritted his teeth. "Then tell me, were you the one who called up that storm?"

"Ssstorm magic is for weaklings," the creature replied, looking unimpressed. "Do you think me weak, mortal?"

"N-no!" Ferdinand said quickly, shaking his head. "O-of course not! You are— _clearly_ —prodigiously strong."

"I don't want your flattery," the creature hissed. 

Ferdinand swallowed thickly. "Then—what do you want?"

It grimaced at him, and it took Ferdinand several moments to realise that the creature was trying to smile. 

"Y-you will not devour me!" Ferdinand protested, his voice coming out high and thin. "I s-shall n-not allow it!" 

"No," the creature spat, advancing on him again. It reached out and pulled his hand away from the wound on his leg. To Ferdinand's surprise, the bleeding had already ceased, but his skin was discoloured around the cut, as though the wound were gangrenous. "Good," the creature said, caressing Ferdinand's leg smoothly. "You should be feeling the effectsss soon."

Ferdinand swallowed. "Effects?" he whispered, looking up into the creature's baleful gaze. "What—"

It responded with another awful grin, its pale face near skeletal in the dim light. Then it crawled up between his legs, bringing it close enough for him to feel its cool, clammy skin, and the wiry strength of its chest and arms. Its breath was sour, though likely no worse than his own, hungry and thirsty as he was. His heart hammered painfully in his chest, fear sliding an icy fist up his throat. And then the creature moved its cold hand up from his thigh and pressed it against his belly. It tipped its head on one side, considering him.

"Yesss," it murmured, thin lips curling in amusement. "You shall do _nicely_."

Ferdinand stared down in horror at the creature's webbed hand on his belly. "Do for what?" he breathed. His head was beginning to feel fuzzy, his eyelids heavy. "Oh, I—I feel quite queer."

"Yesss," the creature hissed, still caressing Ferdinand's belly as his eyes slipped shut. "You ssshall certainly do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pleasss feed me commentsss

**Author's Note:**

> [RT on twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/1215363912746590208) | [my three houses fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/works?fandom_id=23985107)
> 
>   
> sorry if my fodlan geography is bad, i'm too lazy and busy to check.


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